Walk Away
by sunnyamazing
Summary: - End of chapter. Close the book. Walk away. - Set during Always.


Thanks must go to the wonderful Em (Tadpole24) for her beta-ing and her help with making my angst mood become what you are about to read. As much as I love Always, my own life made me go here and writing is wonderful therapy.

I don't own anything that you recognise, just impatience for September.

* * *

**Walk Away**

_And it's so hard to do and so easy to say. _

_But sometimes, sometimes you just have to walk away, walk away and head for the door. _

_You just walk away, walk away, walk away. _

_You just walk away, walk on, turn and head for the door._

_Walk Away – Ben Harper_

His hands shake as he pushes the door of her apartment building closed. He shivers as he steps outside and has to walk backwards until his back hits the hard brick behind him. His head is spinning; he needs something solid to hold on to. Something so that he doesn't feel like he is falling.

His breathing is rapid and he struggles to retain a sense of calm. Carefully he stares up and down the street, nothing unusual. He isn't normally so jumpy. He'd walked here from his loft, not feeling as if he was in danger. He'd just had to see her. To make sure she was okay, alive, with a beating heart. To tell her she had to stop. But like last year the answer was the same.

She won't back down.

Her father is right.

And he still can't convince her that her life is worth more than her mother's death.

He's failed again.

* * *

She takes a deep breath as both of their voices swirl around in her head. It all seems too familiar, like déjà vu. Like all of this has happened before. It's then that she realises that it has. But last time she threw him out, it was her choice. This time he left on his own, he told her he was done. His choice. He cut the delicate string that has been holding them together for the last four years.

He walked away.

And now she's alone.

Alone to take on those who want to see her dead, who'd like nothing more to see her in a casket in the ground. This is their ultimate goal.

Her out of the way. She's too much work.

Too much trouble. She is maddening and challenging and frustrating to not only Castle but to those whose existence still remains a mystery.

And they are a mystery because he stopped her, he cut a deal for her life, like she was an invalid, a child, incapable of looking after herself. She presses two fingers to the bridge of her nose, trying to halt the progress of a migraine that seems destined to come her way. But it doesn't help.

* * *

Not even declarations of love work. He's not enough for her to back down. She doesn't love him enough, if at all to stop fighting. He hasn't made enough cracks in the wall. It's still too strong, too high to keep him out. He thought he'd made inroads. That the past year had helped. But with one admission it's all gone. Like sand slipping through his fingers, away to wash back out to shore.

* * *

Too many emotions have her brain feeling like it has been placed in a food processor, and one of them makes her walk towards the door, opening it carefully. She doesn't know why, maybe it's to check for danger, or maybe it's to check if Castle has actually left her. But there is no-one there, the hallway is silent. Another emotion, one of anger makes her slam the door closed.

The noise startles her, makes her heart race. And she clenches her fists to her chest, holding both of them over her heart. She tries valiantly to stop her breathing from quickening, but she fails. They'd tried to kill her once. They'd nearly succeeded.

She knows that this should matter, it should matter that someone, more than one, wants her dead. It should also matter that Castle brings her coffee so he can see her smile, and because he loves her.

But out of all of the emotions one stands alone, it wipes away all logical thought, all reasonable thought. All sense at all.

* * *

He knows he shouldn't have lied, but he wishes she understood why he did. That to him, her life, is so important that he would do anything to protect her. That he would be a pawn in a game that he doesn't understand. A game that terrifies him to the core - and he writes murders for a living.

His head rocks against the wall, a reminder of where he is and who he is. He's a man in love with a woman who is waging war against people too powerful to stop. A dragon that they both awoke from its peaceful slumber. A dragon that cost the life of her mentor, his friend.

And he's standing outside her building, hoping upon hope that she'll run downstairs and kiss him and tell him he's right. That her life is important, that she understands. That she won't wage war alone, endangering her life once again.

But she doesn't come.

* * *

They killed her mother. Nothing changes that. And even though the wall inside of her is slowly breaking, the foundations still remain. The crux of the problem is still there. Yes, she wants to be more, wants to know what her life is without that day thirteen years ago clouding her judgement.

But that day is a part of her, part of her in ways that even she doesn't understand. Ways perhaps she doesn't even want to understand. She turns back towards her homemade murder board and reaches out for the photo of her mother, her fingers trace her mother's smile, and she feels anger build up inside of her.

* * *

And he has to walk away.

He can't watch her die again. He can't watch the life of her ebb from her eyes. He can't listen to her heart stop. Not again. He doesn't have the strength. The first time was enough. He relives it often enough, he can't survive it again.

He takes a deep breath and pushes off the wall. His chest feels heavy and it aches at the pain of leaving her behind.

Alone and unprotected.

She has no protective detail this time. It's just her to fight whatever may come. Alone.

But he has to leave her; he's been given no other choice. He takes one last look toward her windows that face the street and sends a silent plea out into the universe. He doesn't know what he believes or if he believes at all. But he'll take anything to keep her safe.

* * *

These people stole her mother from her, they ruined her father's life. Reason and rationality have no business here, they don't belong in a war. They are useless weapons against the enemy.

This is her war, her personal crusade and it wipes away all other senses. All other feelings. For now nothing else matters but making them pay. She has no other choice but to stay and fight. She will not walk away.

* * *

He hails a cab, he can't walk alone now. Even if she's happy to throw her life away he can't, and won't do the same to his. His mother and Alexis do not deserve that.

The cab speeds off in to the night. And again he makes a plea; a plea that the next time he sees Kate Beckett is not at her funeral, not in her casket. Not needing to eulogise about her as tears roll down his cheeks. That he doesn't have to console Ryan, Esposito and Lanie. And that he doesn't have to explain to her father that he failed. Not once. But over and over again.

She still doesn't believe her life is worth anything.

But to him he knows it is.

Her life is precious, a delicate jewel that should be polished and protected. Connected to his so carefully for the last four years, even through the good and bad.

He's severed the link. He's walked away.

But he has no choice. The cab accelerates and with each second she's further away and harder to save.

A word echoes in his head, over and over again.

_Always, always, always, always._

Not even always stretches to this. He will always be there for her.

But he won't watch her die.

He won't pay that price.

He failed to convince her that her own life was worth something but he knows his is. So he goes home. Home to a daughter, excited and worried about graduating. Worried that everything is going to change. And even though he doesn't tell her exactly, he feels the same way.

The door of the loft closes behind him. A feeling of safety. He wonders how she is, how she's feeling. And then he curses himself. He walked away. He can't think like this any longer. But reason and rationality go out the window when there are emotions like the ones he feels for her.

All sense at all disappears.

He moves backwards against his door. Reminding himself of who he is and where he is.

He is in his loft, where he's lived for many years. He's Richard Edgar Castle, son of Martha Rogers and father of Alexis Castle. He had a brief dalliance as a civilian volunteer at the NYPD's Twelfth Precinct.

But that's over now. He's a writer with a brilliant career behind him and hopefully ahead. And he's nothing to one Katherine Beckett. She has to leave his head and he had to leave her alone.

End of chapter. Close the book. Walk away. Begin new story.

His only hope is that it doesn't begin with her death.

He shakes his head. Close the book. Walk away.


End file.
